Frenzied State Oregon and Oregon State both have Heisman candidates and national title hopes, so their cute little rivalry has suddenly turned very, very serious

Heisman hype used to be so simple. Back in the last century (say,1997), if you were an underexposed school in the PacificNorthwest (say, Washington State), you would just grab someleaves, stuff them into envelopes, and then mail them to a fewhundred writers who vote for the award. Presto, Ryan Leaf for theHeisman Trophy!

These days, a Heisman campaign requires far more than a littleingenuity. Take Oregon. In June, still glowing from their first10-win season, the national title contenders from Eugene beganpromoting the candidacy of senior quarterback Joey Harrington bycommissioning a billboard. Not just any billboard, but a10-story, leap-tall-buildings-in-a-single-bound billboard. In NewYork City. Right across from Madison Square Garden.

The Joey Heisman billboard cost Ducks boosters $250,000 and sentthe national title contenders at Oregon State, 37 miles north inCorvallis, into a tizzy. After all, the Beavers, still glowingfrom their first 11-win season, have an even stronger Heismancandidate, senior tailback Ken Simonton, a Barry Sanders-styleslasher who could become the first player in Pac-10 history torush for 1,000 yards in four seasons. Those nouveaux riches Duckscouldn't one-up them now, Beavers alumni roared. Six publicrelations firms were invited to design Simonton-for-Heismancampaigns, and the proposal that won included a dynamite hook: a12-inch-tall action figure, Li'l Ken, with removable helmet andpads, and a li'l Heisman Trophy that Ken could hold in his li'lplastic hands.

One problem: Li'l Ken was cute, and the Beavers don't do cute.The p.r. firm was hired, but with a caveat: Lose Li'l Ken. "Wewon't go the route of an advertising campaign," says Oregon Stateathletic director Mitch Barnhart. "We're not some corporate giantthat can throw dollars at problems. Oregon has the Madison Avenuelook, and we're the ol' junkyard dog."

About the only thing these two schools have in common is theirsudden and unlikely national prominence. Last season, in thePac-10's most topsy-turvy year in decades, the Beavers and theDucks shared the league title with Washington. In two seasonsBeavers coach Dennis Erickson has gone 7-5 and then 11-1 at aschool that hadn't had a winning record in 28 years, while Oregonhas won more games (49) than any other team in the Pac-10 sincecoach Mike Bellotti took over six years ago. Both schools' seasonticket packages are sold out, and both coaches have turned downentreaties from some of the nation's most storied programs. (USCwooed Erickson in December 2000, and Ohio State courted Bellottiat about the same time.) This season's Oregon-Oregon Stateshowdown is so tantalizing that ABC has moved it back two weeks,to Dec. 1, Championship Saturday, to be shown nationally betweenthe Big East and Big 12 title games.

It's the most fascinating rivalry in college football, 2001edition, and in the drought-stricken Willamette Valley, venom ismore plentiful than water these days. From the Beavers'standpoint, Oregon is a Grateful Dead-listening, granola-munchinghippie school with a high-gloss football team bankrolled by Nikeco-founder (and Ducks alum) Phil Knight. The Ducks regard OregonState as a redneck school with a suddenly potent football teamrun by a renegade coach who gives free reign to renegade players,particularly junior college mercenaries.

The Ducks and the Beavers: They sound as if they'd be so playfuland Disneyfied--but then the players open their mouths. "We're aclassier team. Oregon State is more the clowning type," saysOregon cornerback Rashad Bauman, pointing to Oregon State's 41-9Fiesta Bowl win last season over Notre Dame, in which the Beaversracked up 18 penalties, five of them for personal fouls ortaunting. "We don't need to showboat and get out of hand for ourcrowd to get into the game. We carry ourselves in a differentway."

The Beavers' response? "People always want to put the rap onCoach E, that he's always getting thugs," says Simonton. "But youknow what he does? He gets dudes who want to win--at all costs. Ihad those J.C. transfers runnin' up mountains last summer. Youcan take your prissy little four-year college boys with trustfunds, and I'll take these J.C. dudes who are hungry to win, andwe're gonna go bust their heads."

Is it any wonder they call this rivalry the Civil War?

The top three reasons that Beavers are better than Ducks:

1. Beavers worry about time of possession. Ducks worry about timefor possession.

2. Beavers know being called "The University of California atEugene" isn't a compliment.

3. Beavers grow their crops outdoors.

How did the state of Oregon, home of loggers and joggers,displace Southern California as the epicenter of Pac-10 football?For starters, both Oregon and Oregon State credit the NCAA's 1994mandate limiting schools to 85 scholarships, preventing USC andUCLA from stockpiling all the top Western talent. Nowadays, therest of the Pac-10 recruiters descend on the Golden State likeinvading armies. "There are 3.4 million people in Oregon," saysBellotti, "but there are three million people within a stone'sthrow of the L.A. Coliseum." So the Beavers' and the Ducks'rosters will boast nearly twice as many Californians asOregonians this fall. For the most part, though, Oregon andOregon State have taken different paths to success. To wit:

Oregon State's "Quick Fix" The best way to change Oregon State'slosing mentality, Simonton says, was simple. "It's just like anybusiness," he says. "You get rid of a lot of people. When we gothere as freshmen, most of the seniors were used to losing. Me and[strong safety] Calvin Carlyle tried to organize Saturdayconditioning one time, and nobody showed up. So that springCalvin was walking around here like, 'I'm glad some of youseniors are leaving.'"

When former Beavers coach Mike Riley left after a 5-6 season in'98 to coach the San Diego Chargers, Oregon State hired Erickson,who had just been fired after four mediocre years with theSeattle Seahawks. Although he'd won two national titles during asix-year stint with the Miami Hurricanes, Erickson, who is anative of Everett, Wash., has always felt more comfortablecoaching in small Western college towns--places like Moscow,Idaho, and Laramie, Wyo. He walked into his first players meetingin Corvallis wearing the two national championship rings from hisMiami days and announced that his goal was to win the Pac-10."Our staff has been in the NFL," says Erickson, "and we've beensuccessful wherever we've been at the college level." Heinstalled his user-friendly spread offense, maximizing thetalents of Simonton (SI, Nov. 13, 2000) and quarterback JonathanSmith, and he beat the recruiting bushes, signing 16 jucotransfers during his first year.

"Quick fix" is a verboten term in Corvallis, especially afterABC's Sean McDonough ripped the Beavers during the Fiesta Bowlbroadcast for signing so many juco transfers since Erickson'sarrival. "ABC didn't know what they were talking about," saysErickson, and his boss Barnhart remains fiercely unrepentant."We're not gonna back down from recruiting junior collegeathletes," says Barnhart. Whatever you may think of them,Erickson's Beavers compete with a swagger reminiscent of theircoach's old Miami teams. "He lets us play with emotion, and theguys have thrived on that," says Smith. "He has a leash on us,but he doesn't tug it too tight unless we go way out-of-bounds."

Oregon's Building Boom Though the Ducks reached the 1995 RoseBowl under former coach Rich Brooks, their road to the eliteregions they inhabit today began in earnest with a January 1996exchange between Bellotti and Knight soon after Colorado hadhammered Oregon 38-6 in the Cotton Bowl. "He said, 'What do weneed to be really good, to take that next step?'" says Bellotti."I said, 'We need an indoor practice facility. It would be thefirst of its kind in the Western U.S., and it would also help forbowl games and off-season practices.'"

The $15 million athletic center was completed in 1998, providingwhat Bellotti calls "the wow factor" for their recruiting. "Whenwe didn't have the indoor facility, it was used against us," saysDucks athletic director Bill Moos. "'Why would you come to Oregonwhen you can't work on your game year-round?'"

Oregon's sugar daddy has been Knight, whose $20 million indonations to the athletic program (and an additional $30 millionto the university) since 1995 rank him among the most generousboosters in college sports. It has been a problematicrelationship, though, ever since April 2000, when the schoolexpressed support for the Worker Rights Consortium, anorganization that has been critical of Nike's labor practicesoverseas. Knight stopped attending football games and announcedhe would no longer donate money to the university. The school hassince backed away from the WRC; while Knight's wallet remainsclosed, he resumed attending football games late last season.

Not all the building in Eugene involves facilities. Bellotti hasbeen hard at work building the Ducks to his own specifications. Awide receiver during his college days at UC Davis (and anoffensive coordinator under Brooks at Oregon), he's the kind ofgridiron wonk who gets animated talking about bubble screens, flysweeps and double wings. "The key is to have your kids be fast,"he says, "whether it's learning a scheme or playing." Still, heknows that his task in Eugene is hardly complete. "We need towork on our depth," he says. "Our first line can play withanybody's, but we are vulnerable to key injuries. Part of thatcomes back to the local population base. There aren't a lot ofgood players in Oregon."

There are, however, a lot of new buildings. It's no coincidencethat indoor practice facilities are nearing completion atWashington, Washington State and (should we have doubted?) OregonState, which is busy planning renovations for Reser Stadium.Welcome to the arms race, Oregon style.

Q: Why did Oregon State choose orange and black for its teamcolors?

A: So that on Friday the players can go hunting, on Saturday theycan play football, and on Sunday they can go back to work on theprison road crew.

"Hey, that's Take Five," says Joey Harrington, correctlyidentifying the Dave Brubeck Quartet jazz tune playing in areporter's car. On the next track, a trumpet takes over. "MilesDavis--So What," he says. The man knows his jazz. A pianist sinceage four--first classical, then jazz--Harrington is no doubt theonly Heisman candidate who hires himself out for banquets andbirthday parties. While his teammates gorge on rap and heavymetal for their pregame music, Harrington listens to HerbieHancock.

If the Civil War is a rivalry fueled by contrasts, the mostdramatic may be at quarterback. A 6'4", 220-pound alpha male,Harrington was all but born with a fuzzy green O on his chest.His father, John, quarterbacked the Ducks in the late 1960s, andhis extended family includes seven other signal-callers. Youcould say that the Ducks got to Joey early: Shortly after he wasborn, a "letter of intent" arrived in the mail, courtesy oflongtime Oregon coach Len Casanova. Harrington is collegefootball's version of Shane Battier, an Academic All-America(with a 3.3 GPA in business) who spends his winters leading theboisterous student cheering section at Ducks basketball games,dressing up in a flowing red wig with a troupe called the MacCourt Mullets. ("We're the Cameron Indoor Stadium of the West,"he says.)

"A lot of people dream about playing for the Cowboys," saysHarrington. "I always dreamed of playing college football. I'mhaving the greatest time in the world--living with some of my bestfriends in a town that adores everything the University of Oregondoes." Mocking Harrington's squeaky-clean image, Ducks tight endJustin Peele gave him the nickname Princess.

In an age of game-breaking, multiple-threat quarterbacks of theMichael Vick sort, Harrington knows his limitations. "I'm not anathlete; I'm a quarterback," he says. "I don't have great speed,and I can't throw 90 yards down the field. I win games becauseI've done the mental preparation."

Harrington's most impressive stat isn't his Pac-10-leading 22touchdowns and 247.3 yards passing per game of 2000; it's his14-2 record as a starter. The mythmaker was the Ducks' 56-55double-overtime win at Arizona State last year, in whichHarrington led Oregon back from a two-touchdown deficit with lessthan six minutes in regulation. Says Bellotti, "When it's crunchtime, it doesn't matter what he's done to that point, Joey willput the ball where it can be caught or make the audible or get afirst down on a scramble to keep the drive alive."

If Harrington is the Princess in this fable, Beavers quarterbackJonathan Smith would be the Frog. Standing a gnomic 5'10"("five-eleven in socks," he says), Smith never attracted seriousinterest from Division I-A schools as a senior at Glendora(Calif.) High. Only when Riley's recruiters started pursuingSmith's Glendora teammate, offensive lineman Dustin Janz, didthey notice the tiny signal-caller, and even then their pitch waslacking. "They said, 'You'd be just like a scholarship player,except you'd be paying for it,'" says Smith, whose bestscholarship offers had come from Division I-AA UC Davis andHumboldt State.

So he walked on at Oregon State. During his redshirt season,Smith dutifully ran the scout team, and the following spring hesurprised everyone by earning the backup job behind incomingjunior college All-America Terrance Bryant. That fall, somethingmagical happened. With Oregon State down 21 points at Washington,Smith came on in relief and gunned a 90-yard touchdown pass. Thenhe completed an 80-yard pass for another touchdown. By the timeit was over, Smith had passed for 469 yards in barely more than ahalf, and although the Beavers lost 35-34, the quarterback nobodywanted had won the job. And a scholarship.

Erickson admits that when he first met Smith, he thought he wasan equipment manager. "He's not a real big guy," Erickson says,"but he's smart, he's accurate, and he probably understands thegame better than anyone else in college football." Smith had ahuge game against Notre Dame in the Fiesta Bowl--305 yards andthree touchdowns--but he says last year's 23-13 triumph inCorvallis meant even more. "Notre Dame was great," he says, "butthere was something special about beating your rival for part ofthe Pac-10 championship." What's more, Smith outplayedHarrington, who was intercepted five times and fumbled once. "Iget physically ill when I think about last year," saysHarrington, who concedes that he thinks about it every day.

Yet even Civil Wars have their moments of detente. In June,Harrington and Smith, the Princess and the Frog, rode together inthe back of a Pontiac convertible, greeting 350,000 screamingPortlanders as the co-grand marshals of the Rose FestivalStarlight Parade. They talked about family and school andgolf--and the strangest thing happened. "It was a really fundeal," says Harrington. "Jonathan is a nice person, and it wasgood to see him outside the football atmosphere."

COLOR PHOTO: COVER PHOTOGRAPH BY RICH FRISHMAN COVER State of War In Oregon a national title is at stake! Heisman hopefuls Ken Simonton of Oregon State and Joey Harrington of OregonCOLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPH BY RICH FRISHMAN Simonton (left) and Harrington ensure that feathers and fur will fly when the Ducks meet the Beavers.COLOR PHOTO: PETER READ MILLER ACTION FIGURE Simonton, swarmed by Ducks in last year's game, may be the stronger of the state's two Heisman hopefuls. THREE COLOR PHOTOS: ROBERT BECK ESCALATION The Civil War was fierce even when the teams were weak, but last year's Beavers win had national implications. COLOR PHOTO: CHUCK SOLOMON BUILDING CREDIBILITY Oregon's campaign to secure a Heisman Trophy for Harrington got big play in Manhattan.

The Beavers think Oregon is a hippie school; the Ducks thinkOregon State's coach and players are renegades.

The Ducks got to Harrington early: Shortly after his birthOregon's longtime coach mailed him a "letter of intent."

Before he became the premier postseason performer of his generation, the Patriots icon was a middling college quarterback who invited skepticism, even scorn, from fans and his coaches. That was all—and that was everything